


Pretend I'm Something Better Than This Mess That I Am

by Angelcraft1010



Series: Camp Camp, The Emotional Ride [7]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Blame Karissao for this, M/M, TW: Homophobia, because I was going to WizComicCon in a few hours, it's her/his/their fault that this trash is here, this was written in a hurry, tw: homophobic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 02:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12049782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelcraft1010/pseuds/Angelcraft1010
Summary: This is the prequel to "Never Let Them See The Worst Of Me," as requested (or demanded) by Karissao.BTW Karissao get a profile so I can properly stalk and destroy you for making me suffer >:0TW: Homophobic Language, Language ((I'm looking at you Max))





	Pretend I'm Something Better Than This Mess That I Am

**Author's Note:**

> It was kinda hard to write this one because I'm so tIRED
> 
>  AND YES I KNOW IM BREAKING MY PERFECT SCHEDULE BUT STILL I WAS EXCITED TO POST THIS
> 
> Whoops I may have self projected onto Max a bit

Max groaned at the grade on his test. A large red 50% stared back at him. He put his head down on the desk.

He was startled when he felt something grab his hand. He looked up to see Preston, smiling and holding his hand. "Don't worry, you'll be fine, it's only the first real test of the year."

Max nodded and smiled a bit, sighing as the final bell rang. He picked up all of his things, shoving the test to the very back of his binder, and left the classroom.

He and Preston both had late busses, although sadly they were different ones. They had an after school routine. Max would wait with Preston at his locker so that he could get his backpack, since it was farther down the hall, and then Preston would wait for Max at his respective locker, which was right next to the hall doors.

As Max got his backpack from the locker, a small group of boys walked by, and though they thought they were quiet, he could hear the whispers of the word "faggot" go through the group. He groaned. Well, less of a groan and more of a growl. Preston put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's fine, lets just go."

So Max slammed his locker closed, much to the disapproval of a nearby teacher, and the two walked down the hall. Max had shoved his hands in his pockets, but as they passed the group of boys from earlier he held Preston's hand in a way that made it so they could see, and hissed, "Suck it, assholes."

The boys looked shocked. One of them just glared at the two as they walked by.

They finally got out to the busses, and they didn't have to wait for long before their respective rides home pulled up. Max waved goodbye to Preston and vice-versa, and they got onto their busses.

Max walked down the bus aisle and sat near the very back, where the older kids sat. He had long since proven that he would be perfectly fine sitting back there. He watched out the window boredly as the bus finally started moving. The ride wouldn't be too long, he was one of the first couple stops.

Suddenly someone tapped his shoulder. He turned to see a boy he didn't know.

"Is it true that you were holding that theater kid's hand?"

Max shrugs. "Yeah, so what?"

The boy reels back, laughing. "Holy shit! You really are a fag!" And at that moment, even though he didn't care for religion, Max prayed to every god there was that nobody had heard the boy.

But no such luck.

Suddenly it seemed like the whole bus was yelling at him. He pulled up his hood, burying himself into the soft fabric of his jacket. Calls of "kill yourself" and "go to hell, faggot" rang through the bus. The sound of the bus driver yelling at them to stop was drowned out.

Max glanced around, feeling tears well in his eyes. Outside the window he saw some very familiar trees. The bus slowed down, then stopped.

Relieved, Max got up, but as he started walking forward the yelling got louder. "Yeah, you better run, faggot!" "Go back to hell where you belong!" He made a quick break for the bus exit, nearly tripping over someone's leg as he did. He was suddenly jerked back as someone grabbed his bag, and the squeaking sound of a sharpie was heard. Max tried to get his bag out of the kid's grip, screaming his throat raw.

**"Fuck off! Let go of my fucking bag!"**

Max rubbed his throat slightly. _Shit, that really hurt._ Everyone froze, staring at him, the kid let go of his bag, and Max took that time to get out of there.

Max nearly tripped again as he rushed off of the bus, frantically unlocking the door to the house, feeling tears starting to fall.

**Author's Note:**

> What that kid did, the "Was it true that..." happens to me a lot.  
> I'll get a bunch of people asking me "was it true that you kissed so-and-so" or "why were you hugging what's-their-face" or "omg you were holding hands with what's-her-face are you two dating" and it sucks because you never know who's gonna come out and call you these rude names, and when it happens it hurts.


End file.
